Fire & Desire (Hero Series) (8 page)

Assisting an unsteady Tiffany from the ride, he thanked the
teenager and they left.

~ML~

On the ride home, she sat in the passenger seat of Trevor’s BMW
and felt like crying.

Once again, Tiffany found herself caught up in the sensual game
Trevor so easily played.

He seemed to respect the fact that she needed time by herself
because he turned on the radio and didn’t say anything.

Part of her wished he would say something, as the Rhythm and Blues
artist Anthony Hamilton played softly in the background.

Staring out of the passenger side window, she wondered what it
would be like to have no responsibilities but loving someone.

Shaking the thought off, she knew that fantasy wasn’t for her. She
was Tiffany Selina, the governor’s daughter. Her fate was sealed.

“Tiffany, we need to talk.”

The music faded as he turned down the volume.

She closed her eyes for a moment and took a deep breath before
turning toward the front of the vehicle.

“No, we don’t. This whole thing was a mistake from the beginning,
and this date just topped it off,” she said in a quiet tone.

“I don’t agree.”

“I don’t care. Trevor, why won’t you just end this farce of a
marriage? Then we can both go our separate ways.”

His jaw clenched, but he remained silent.

“Trevor, you can’t believe this
relationship
has
potential?”

“Why, would I think of something like you honoring your vows and
staying with someone ridiculous?”

She could see his anger plainly in the way he stared intently out
of the front window and tapped his thumb against the steering wheel.

“
Vows
? Trevor, I’m not going there again with you.” Tiffany
tried to remain calm.

The returned silence in the car seemed to stretch on forever.

Trevor exhaled a slow breath. “Look, Tiffany, I’m sorry for
getting upset. I know you don’t know me and I don’t know you that well, and
you’re probably right. Regardless of what my feelings may be about marriage,
this one started off in a way neither of us would have planned. You’re also
probably right; a divorce is most likely inevitable. However, we’ve been attracted
to one another since the moment we met.

She snapped, “So what do you suggest, Trevor, that the two of us
get together for casual sex every now and then to relieve a little stress and
tension?” She rolled her eyes toward the ceiling of the car.

This is just great
, she thought.
Men are all the same, no matter what their
social class or occupation. It is all about sex.

Taking his eyes off the road, he briefly looked at her. “In spite
of what you may think about me, sex has not been casual for me since I was in
my early twenties.”

“Then why even bring it up?”

“Because it’s a fact that
neither
of us can honestly deny.”

“I may not be able to deny it, but I plan to disregard it.” In an
abrupt motion, Tiffany crossed her legs and folded her arms over her chest.

Trevor merged into the off ramp traffic, taking the exit back to
the college. “Tiffany, I’ll give you your divorce.”

Shocked, she turned toward him. “Are you serious?”

Trevor held up his hand, curbing her enthusiasm. “On one
condition.”

She observed his profile through squinted eyes and asked
cautiously, “What’s that?”

“The moment you begin living for yourself, I’ll let you go.”

“What kind of garbage is that?”

Trevor turned the corner to the college. “I know you’re not only
totally consumed by your father’s career, but your friends are sucking the rest
of the life out of you.”

“You don’t know anything about me
or
my life.” Tiffany slid
her hips back, her posture ramrod straight in the seat.

As he pulled into a parking spot, he turned toward her. “I know enough
to know you are suffocating. You’re stifling your own passion and life to
fulfill your father’s dreams.”

Tiffany inhaled a sharp breath, then forced it out. “As you can
see, Mr. Trevor Wayne, I can breathe just fine. I don’t need your amateur
medical advice to tell me what’s best for me.”

“Maybe not, but one thing I do know for sure is, you’re in dire
need of a good lay.”

The silence in the car almost crackled with the tension ignited
between them.

“Where do you get off—”

Trevor cut her off, saying, “As you may have noticed, tonight, I
didn’t.”

Mad enough to spit needles, she grabbed the door handle and
attempted to exit the car.

Trevor grabbed her by the shoulders and turned her toward him.
“Look, Tiffany, you need to learn to live your own life before you get
smothered under the pile of people wanting a piece of you.” He looked into her
eyes, his gaze intent and strong. “You may be Governor Donald W. Selina’s
daughter, but you’re not his wife. It’s way past time for you to step out of his
lime light.”

She pushed away from him, gripped the door handle, opened it and
faced him one last time. “Listen up, Trevor, and listen well. I never asked you
to be my guardian angel. I don’t know why you
think
you have a right to
dictate to me about
my
life.”

“I’m your husband,” he said, his tone austere and quiet, like a
vault door sealing her fate.

~ML~

He watched Tiffany walk to her car, get in, start it up and pull
off. The sound of spitting gravel assured him she was still very angry. He
pulled out of the parking spot and headed toward his apartment.

He didn’t know why it was so important to him that Tiffany got a
life. Maybe it was because he’d noticed the minute signs of strain and fatigue
around her eyes. Even when they were at the party a few weeks ago and she
smiled her fake smile for the public, he could see how exhausted she appeared.
The hints were so subtle that, if someone weren’t paying close attention to
her, he would miss them.

He steered his car down the deserted dark streets. “That woman’s
going to start living, even if I have to drag her kicking and screaming.”

Eight

Tiffany exited the kitchen. She was happy that everything was
going well. The Breast Cancer Society’s annual fundraiser benefit and ball
promised to be a resounding success.

She and Josephine had worked on this non-stop over the last month.
It was an issue she and her partner held dear. Standing by the kitchen door,
she observed all of the attendees. The ballroom at the Marriott was packed. The
BCS committee had sold over three hundred tickets at three hundred dollars a
plate.

People arrived at the cocktail hour and took the time before
dinner to mingle with each other as the live band played.

She observed everyone. A bald, tall, brown-skinned man with broad
shoulders and what appeared to be a nice build under his suit caught her
attention. Her heart paused; for a moment she’d thought the man was Trevor.

Her mind instantly drifted to two weeks ago when she had last seen
Trevor. She recalled how angry she had been. No one had ever made her lose
control in so many ways as Trevor did.

She denied herself the memory of the carousel ride. It took
everything in her power not to think back to the interlude. When she slept, her
dreams were filled with heated reflections. The morning after it happened, she
awakened with a strong desire for sex.

She had to hurry up and divorce him before things went too far or,
worse, her feelings began to get involved.

Maybe it is too late.

Tiffany refused to believe that. She wouldn’t allow herself to
become entangled in this
relationship
with him—anymore than she already
had.

When the man turned to speak to some woman on his right, she
realized her mistake. She berated herself for her wayward thoughts about
Trevor.

There were three twenty-minute speakers set up during dinner,
besides the remarks and comments made by Lavonia Demhart, the president of the
local chapter of BCS. Two of them were personal testimonials, and the other one
was a family member who had lost a loved one to breast cancer.

Four years ago, Tiffany had been one of the speakers. The
testimonials were always an emotional time of the evening for her—as well as
for other attendees.

Tiffany heard Josephine through the speakers as she directed
everyone to take their seats.

Tiffany and Josephine’s seats were reserved in the back, closest
to the kitchen. If anything happened, they could leave without disturbing the
function.

“How was everything in the kitchen?” Josephine asked her when she
took the seat beside Tiffany’s.

Josephine wore a black chiffon dress with a scooped neck that left
the crown of her shoulders bare. It clung nicely to her body, stopping modestly
above her knee. Sheer black stockings and a pair of black chiffon covered heels
topped off the outfit. The only color to her ensemble was the honey color
highlights in her bone-straight, jet-black, short, tapered haircut.

Her best friend’s eyes were so dark brown even they appeared
black.

Tonight, Tiffany wore a black tuxedo dress with a white lapel
collar. The dress was sleeveless, tapered in the front at her waist and ended
at the tips of her shoes. The back of it was the part that made her a little
self-conscious because the dress wasn’t as conservative as those she normally
wore. It left the full expansion of her back bare.

She’d received some curious looks from people. More than once,
she’d wished she’d just worn her sequin suit, or had left her hair down to
cover up part of her back instead of deciding on the French roll.

“Great, no problems, Jo. Any concerns or worries from Lavonia?”
Tiffany sat next to Josephine.

“Not a one. Things are going smoothly.” Josephine smiled.

“Good evening, ladies and gentlemen. On behalf of the Breast
Cancer Society, we would like to welcome you to the Virginia Chapter’s
Sixteenth Annual Benefit dinner.” The emcee Bridget Kruse, the vice president
of the chapter, began the opening remarks as the servers collected the dessert
plates.

~ML~

“Wow, Tiffy, you look fabulous. I almost didn’t recognize you,”
Christopher said in a soft whisper as he came up behind her. She stood on the
outskirts of the dance floor, watching people move to the beat of the live
band.

Tiffany drew in a slow breath, then turned around with a smile.
“Christopher, I didn’t expect to see you here. Things like this aren’t usually
your thing.”

Looking at her with a conspirator’s smile, he said, “You know me
so well, Tiffy. Another reason why we’d make a great team. Anyway, now that I’m
running for congressman, it’s important for me to show face in the right
places. People in the BCS are heavy voters.”

“That’s true and they’re pretty smart also.”

“Humm,” he grumbled. “So what do you say about allowing me a few
moves with you on the dance floor?”

The first thing that came to mind was to turn him down, telling
him she was working wouldn’t work. With the main part of the program concluded
and a few people having already left, it was a weak excuse. The truth of the
matter, she liked to dance, and even though Christopher was a very persistent
friend, she knew he would be safe.

“Sure, that would be nice.”

Tiffany allowed him to escort her to the dance floor and even
disregarded the cocky look on his face as he led her to an empty spot.

She and Christopher danced to one fast song, then the band
switched to a slower ballad.

She allowed Christopher to pull her in close and hold her. She
admitted to herself for a moment that it felt good to be in a man’s arms, even
if only for a moment.

~ML~

Trevor stood holding a Sprite in his hand. As the carbonated
bubbles rose to the top, so did his anger as he watched Manning hold Tiffany in
his arms.

He was supposed to be listening to Matthew Benedict, an alderman
and congressman hopeful from Texas, talk about the benefits of health care for
migrant workers in border States. It was known that Benedict’s wife was at one
time an illegal alien who had been trying to escape the border patrol in Del
Rio, Texas, when she jumped in his car at a gas station. Rumor had it he had
waited weeks before turning her in to the officials—only to marry her a month
after she was deported. That didn’t stop Benedict from lobbying to whomever
would listen. It was easy to tune him out.

Trevor glanced around the room while he gave Benedict an
occasional, “Hmm, interesting…” or a “You may have a point there,” when he
spotted the couple on the dance floor.

He had seen Josephine earlier that night but didn’t realize
Tiffany was there also. After their “date” two weeks ago, he’d learned about
their business Occasionally Yours and knew they managed functions such as this
one but assumed they alternated who showed up for the engagements.

Tiffany looked sexy tonight. Her hair was in some type of up-do.
Different from the normal conservative bun she wore, making him desire to reach
up and remove every pin and clip until it cascaded unencumbered down her bare
back. Trevor’s eyes followed the curve of her spine. Her skin made him think of
caramel or toffee. He’d always had a sweet tooth for both. In the weeks since
he’d smelled her scent on the carousel, sweet musk, he’d continued craving her,
desiring to know what she tasted like. While in Vegas, the perfect opportunity
had been within his grasp, to spread her legs wide and sample until his lust
was slacked. Even if only temporarily.

Tiffany was someone whom, if he ever had her, there would never be
an end to his wanting her. He would never get enough.

Even at that moment, he recalled the sound of her voice begging
him to touch her.

Trevor, I want your hands on me. I need them inside,
she had cried. He had
given in to her request and touched her. Felt her slick wet heat surround his
finger as it slid inside. Felt her walls tighten and quiver around it. However,
the alcohol-induced memory was nothing compared to the memory of seeing and
feeling her in Baltimore. The memory of watching the freedom of her sexuality.
That had been a remarkable sight.

Trevor felt the response of his body—rapid heartbeat, beads of
sweat rolling down his spine and the rush of blood in his ears as it left his
head and moved south. He felt his shaft begin to pulse with the increased blood
flow.

A dish clattered somewhere in the kitchen and brought Trevor’s
mind out of the fog.
Pull yourself together, man.
He cleared his throat
and refocused on Tiffany.

He would have been pleased to see her under any other
circumstance, but she looked too cozy with Manning for his comfort. Manning
held one of her hands while his other hand lay on the
bare
flesh of her
back. Tiffany in a skin revealing dress had shocked him enough without adding
her dance partner into the mix.

It took all of his will power to keep his hand relaxed and not
squeeze the glass until it shattered.

A bead of sweat trickled down his spine; his temperature rose and
he saw red. He’d never felt blind rage like what he experienced at that moment.

It was one thing to see Manning and know how he had gotten away
with murder five years ago, but seeing him standing so close to Tiffany pushed
him beyond his breaking point.

Turning, he headed to the bathroom for a moment to get himself
together. The urge to walk across the room and plant his fist in Manning’s face
was a temptation too hard to resist if he continued to watch them. In the end,
he would have made a spectacle and embarrassed Tiffany publicly. After he
entered the men’s room, he made his way to the sink and splashed water on his face.
The anger burned so hot inside of him, he thought for a moment he saw steam
when he looked into the mirror. He blinked and the illusion was gone.

Short of him telling Manning explicitly to take his hands off his
wife, there was little he could do to rectify the situation right now. Grabbing
several paper towels, he dried his face. He couldn’t do what he wanted to do,
but he could take care of what he needed to do. Remove Tiffany from his
clutches.

~ML~

“Tiffy…”

God, I really dislike that name.

“Look how people are watching us.”

Must I.

“You can practically hear them whispering about how good we look
together.”

Tiffany looked at him. They stood eye to eye with her heels on. He
was tall, at least six one, and slender in his build, in an athletic runner
sort of way. He was fair skinned with curly hair he kept cut low, no facial
hair and hazel eyes. He was a “pretty boy,” never lacking for female
companionship. One reporter had described him as captivating to the camera’s
lens.

“Christopher, you could never understand how that doesn’t matter
to me.”

He looked at her as if she had just begun to sprout warts on her
nose.

Voice laced with disgust, he questioned, “
Tiffany
, how
could it not matter to you? You’re a governor’s daughter for crying out loud.”

Tiffany stopped dancing for a moment. “And that’s enough lime
light for me.”

Christopher gave her a slight tug to start her feet moving again.
He glanced around them quickly to make sure no one had noticed her moment of
insurrection
.

“What do you want me to do,” he whispered, “turn down the
congressman seat? Is that what you want, for us to live some quiet no name
life?”

“Christopher, I wouldn’t dream of asking you to give up anything
on account of me—except me.”

He gave her one of his camera flashing smiles. “Tiffy, you’ll give
in to me eventually.

We were too good together for you not to want us again. I don’t
know why you’re playing hard to get.”

He is truly unbelievable. How could he be that self-absorbed with
his own desires and discount mine.

Thankfully, the song ended, and she broke contact with him. “Thank
you, Christopher, but I must get back and check on some things.”

Tiffany intended to leave the dance floor. She turned around as
the next slow song began and walked straight into Trevor.

For a brief moment, she stared into his eyes and felt like a fox
in the sight of a hound.

However, without saying a word or doing anything, he completely
consumed her, once again, making her oblivious to everything around them.

“Trevor Wayne…I haven’t seen you in years and wouldn’t have
expected to see you here.

I wouldn’t have thought this was your forte.” Christopher’s voice
did what she would have never been able to accomplish on her own—break the
spell.

Trevor looked past her to Christopher. “Then you never really knew
anything about me.”

Christopher smiled broadly, but there was an unreadable look in
his eyes that didn’t carry the same happy glow.

Immediately, Tiffany knew there was friction between the two men.

“You’re probably correct. Considering I was a year ahead of you.”